heartbreakers
by literallyjgs
Summary: au: it had been two years since she left the love of her life. since, she'd had a daughter with another man and uncovered that he was an alcoholic, and that she needed to get her and her daughter as far away from him as possible. but will her former flame be willing to take her back? (WIP. K for now.)
1. him

heartbreakers

It had been two years since she left. Left _him._

She couldn't get _him_ off her mind. In a feeble attempt to somehow forget her feelings for him, she married another, completely unrelated, different man. He worked in marketing for a well-off global telecommunications company, originally from Michigan, or so he said, called Logan Rosenfeld. He had seemed to live a simple, normal, life, the kind of simple life she had longed for since _him._ Above all else, above a romance, a relationship, she'd wanted a family, and she felt like he could provide for them.She wasn't looking for _love_ anymore; she knew she could never love like she'd loved _him_ again. She had met him in a bar one night. He had proposed to her very early in their relationship, but out of impulse, she said yes. Her impulse of course, was to forget about _him._ Although she hated to even think about it, she couldn't _function_ without _him_. She constantly thought about why she had done this. Why she had left _him._ He was a hopeless romantic, but it reminded her of _him_ and she liked it. She didn't _love_ him, though. She couldn't love anyone as much as she loved _him._

They had had a daughter. They called her Isla Eve Rosenfeld. It was partially because of _him._ Not once did she ever forget about it _._ He always had liked short names for a daughter.

She loved her daughter with everything she had in her heart but she still didn't _love_ her husband. It was all too late before she finally came to terms with that.

He wasan alcoholic. Years of alcohol abuse had left his cheeks rosy and his mind dull-witted. He knew, that drying out would be a painful process and he had no intention of ever going through with it. He wanted to stay drunk until he died. Being around him when he was intoxicated was like waiting for a bomb to go off. The bottle was his only friend and it didn't improve his temper. He forgot about her, his daughter, neglected her. She'd have to stop working so that she could take care of their daughter because he seemed to forget about her existence. His addiction to the bottle was such that he cared for nothing else. He stopped talking to her about everything, until each sat in bed at night, completely separated from each other. He never had a day sober, if he could help it. He spent more time at a bar than at home, at home with his wife and his daughter. She'd tried to stop him, force him to figure it out himself, that all this alcohol wasn't making anything better. She'd tried to get him help but he always had the sensation for more. She'd undertaken everything, excised every option she possibly could, before she left him, too. It had appeared like he had completely forgotten about her, so why would anything she did to get away from him break his heart?

In all honesty, she'd put up with this behaviour from her husband for longer than she should. Wherever she decided to go, she couldn't stay with her husband. Not after what he'd done. However much she wanted to believe that he could change, she knew he couldn't, not voluntarily, she knew that he wouldn't change for her, and she had enough of constantly being undermined by him.

She packed up her 18-month-old daughter's belongings in one of his old gym bags, because it was all she could get her hands on and she was desperate. He wouldn't be home for a while so she had time to pack up the car and leave him a note. She grabbed all her stuff and all of Isla's stuff, including all the parts of the crib and her toys and blankets, and shoved it in a frenzy into the back of her silver car. She cradled Isla and picked her up, hoping she would never remember this moment, hoping that her father would never come looking for her, so that she'd never have to even begin to explain the reckless, brainless moron that she'd married; so that she'd never have to explain why her daddy suddenly reappeared because it just took him that long to realise that his drunken habits were not to be mingled with their infant daughter. She hushed her to sleep in her arms and she delicately placed her in the car seat, keeping a close eye on her as the pulled out of the driveway. She yearned for _him._ She only hoped that he hadn't moved on as easily as she did.

She wondered, what happened to all that sanctimonious talk about putting her first? Putting her and her daughter first? He wasn't always like that. She couldn't seem to figure out what had triggered her husband to take to the bottle to relieve his pain, dip back into his alcoholism.

Gazing straight ahead, only half-aware of a world outside the oddly claustrophobic comfort of the car, the soundless change of the gears, the pattern of traffic lights, the occasional gurgle or whine from her infant daughter in the back. The car engine sung to the lone roads, and she relished the roaring, crisp Chicago winds as she drove to the Firehouse, hoping _he_ was still on shift. Hoping that she'd finally be able to marvel at his appearance again, feel his skin, feel his toned body and muscle, feel the heat of his body against hers, feel the calming tone of his voice, feel _him._ Take in all of _him._

She didn't know how the rest of her former friends had reacted to her disappearance and now her sudden reappearance. She parked up across the road and took Isla out of her car seat and put her coat on. She peeked through the door of the Firehouse, seeing the familiar faces of Sylvie Brett, Kelly Severide, Christopher Herrmann, _him_ … she was extremely relieved that it was them, that they were the ones working tonight. She walked in with Isla in her arms. Isla looked the spitting image of her; they looked so much like twins, aside from the age difference, and the resemblance was uncanny. They weren't spotted by anyone for a while; she just stood there, hoping to be recognised. Even though she usually enjoyed the cold, enjoyed the bliss that the fresh, crisp air brought, tonight, she wasn't herself. She'd just taken her infant daughter from her home and vowed never to go back to her husband It was getting rather cold outside and she envied the warmth and radiance inside. Until now, she didn't realise how much she'd missed that. She missed all their happy faces, how they were all a family, they could share everything with each other, that everyone had each other's backs, but above all, she missed _him._ She felt so naïve for not being able to make that connection until now; that no matter how many people she tried to forget about _him_ with, it was impossible. And now, now she had Isla, and she'd never be able to forget her former husband, because she loved Isla, and she couldn't forget Isla's father. She knew Isla and knew that in some point in her life, she'd ask where daddy was. She debated taking precautionary and desperate measures as to make sure he could never see Isla, even if he sobered up, but after more thought, realised, hey, he's _never_ going to sober up, so there's no problem there.

If her and Isla were safe, she was okay. She needed a place to stay, and she needed _him._ She didn't know if he would be so willing, seeing as how they left things weren't exactly great. But, they were in love, and it was real. Once she left, she still loved _him_. When she married her husband, she still loved _him._ She prayed he didn't forget that. It was all worth a shot, because, she was desperate. She was _so_ desperate.

She walked into the apparatus floor with confidence, catching the attention of the firefighters at the Squad 3 table, and _him._

"Hi guys…I'm back." She smiled, glancing over at _him,_ seeing a feeble grin spread across his face also.


	2. a not-so-happy reunion

heartbreakers 

_a not-so-happy reunion_

"Gabby?" Severide had to look twice before finally recognising the woman in front of him.

"Yeah…it's me." She sighed weakly and a slight smile spread across her face, nervously darting her eyes at everyone else. No unique faces, they were all in a state of pure shock.

"Dawson….?" He asked, perplexed, his tone turning more irritated, "Or whatever your name is now." He looked down at me, his irises grew dark and I suppressed my smile immediately, breaking the gaze as if there were better reasons to be alive.

"It's legally Rosenfeld, sure. Soon enough it'll be back to Dawson again, though." She retorted. She could hear the annoyance in his voice. She used to like it, when he got all fired-up for her, but now, now it felt more like he was going to kill her or something.

"Oh, so I _did_ hear right. You _did_ get married." He added, the sarcasm in his voice beyond recognisable. He was most definitely _not_ happy at her sudden return to the Firehouse. He prayed that they would have to go out on a call in the middle of their conversation so he could not have to address his still present feelings for her. He wanted to hate her, he wanted to hate her so much for leaving him. But he couldn't.

"Out of impulse. I'm getting divorced." She replied.

Severide sensed the tension between them, changing the subject.

"So…who's that little cutie…?" Severide grinned awkwardly. Matt looked at him as if to say, _why are you being friendly with her?_ Or s _he broke my heart, or don't you remember?_

"She's my…daughter. Isla Eve Rosenfeld." She replied uncomfortably, but proud, glancing at Matt, seeing the disappointment on his face, then glancing back at Isla.

"She's cute. She looks exactly like you." Severide smiled, determined not to let Matt screw this up. He knew that Matt still loved her. He'd been talking about her ever since she left.

It took every ounce of him not to fight back, and ignore it and try and forget everything but his curiosity took over him like a demon. "With your ex-husband… or whatever _?_ " Matt again interjected, exasperated, muttering the last part under his breath. Okay, he thought, he didn't have to pretend to hate her anymore. She moved on and he physically couldn't bare the sight of another woman that wasn't her. She had a child with someone that wasn't him. Did their love mean anything to her? He couldn't tell if she ever loved him, if their relationship was just an elaborate scam for her, and it vexed him beyond his own belief. It irked him to think of the relationship they once had, and the fact that he would not allow himself to have it again.

"Unfortunately." She retorted the humiliation.

Words were indeed racing through his head in a blast of confusion, deciding on what to say next. Time ticked by and her eyes grew dimmer by the second.

"You back for good?" He questioned bluntly.

"My husband is a moron, what do you think?" He debated what she said in a while before saying the one thing that could anger her more.

"Good." He added, his face completely deadpanned.

" _Loving_ the attitude, Matt. Or do I even get to call you that anymore?" She darted her eyes at him, careful not to wake her daughter.

"I couldn't care less. And what do I call _you_ anymore?" He asked, his voice a mix of bewilderment and anger.

"My name. Gabriela, Gabby, Dawson. I don't care what. I never saw myself as married. It was a badly timed impulse decision and soon enough I was trapped in a crumbling relationship and it felt like I was being held in a prison, okay? I don't have to explain myself to you. I thought you'd be the one to have my back. I thought wrong." She continued, "Anyways, I'm not going to be married when I get my stupid, lousy, raging alcoholic of a husband to sign the divorce papers."

"Alcoholic? Wow, you sure make _all_ the right decisions." He scoffed.

"Don't make any of this about you." She retaliated.

"Oh yeah? Why are you even here?" He seethed in response.

"To get _my job_ back." She snapped. She gestured at this whole place, his eyes glowering in recognition.

"It's been two years. Two years! You left and you didn't come back or talk to _anyone_ for two whole years! It's not _your job_ anymore!" He stormed off. His voice collided with it and it seemed so foreign to her, as if silence was all this situation had left and a voice wold be an unexpected twist.

"Well." She regained her posture. "It may not be my job anymore but I still want it back", she breathed out, to keep her tears at bay, and turned to Severide, who was still standing there, "Who replaced me on 61?"

"Mills and… wait. Don't you know?" He scratched his head and rolled his eyes, unsure of how to tell her, and whether to tell her in the first place. She was bound to ask about her.

"Know what, Severide? I'm not in the mood for games." She said, scowling, as her daughter began to wake up and begin crying. She hushed Isla by rocking her gently, while Severide continued.

"Wait…no one told you?" He was genuinely confused as to how the news hadn't got around to her. She didn't see it on the ambulance, either.

"Told me what? Don't play with me." The not-knowing was fuelling her oncoming irritability

"Shay died, Dawson…. 6 months after you left."

"No…no. That's not possible…" She tried to quench her true feelings. Her biggest regret. She never got to tell her goodbye.

"Yeah. You've missed a lot." He turned his eyes so that they met hers, staring deep into them, before darting his eyes back to the apparatus floor.

"I'm going to talk to some of the others then", she sniffled, wiping her eyes, "see what else I've missed out on". She turned to walk away, Isla still in her arms, half asleep, when Severide called her.

"Oh, and Dawson?"

"Yeah?" She choked, turning swiftly, holding Isla stronger in her embrace as Kelly walked closer.

"Give him a chance. He's just in shock that you're back. Your break-up…it messed with his head. He doesn't know why you're here and it scares him. Time. He needs time. He'll come around…eventually." He tried to reason with her…for Matt's sake. Severide wished that Matt would show his true feelings for once in his life; not keep them pent up inside as to not run the risk of exposing them, exposing his love, like he did for her, which backfired for him. After he proposed, it only took 3 months for her to leave.

She didn't seem entirely convinced. He had to convince her that Matt still loved her. He could tell that she still loved him; otherwise, why would she come back _here?_ He groaned loudly and sighed as she began to walk away again, muttering,

"I'll keep a note of that."


End file.
